


What is in a name?

by ninhursag



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, F/M, Half-vulcan Leonard Snart, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, Ridiculous, sex in a bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:39:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: The star trek aos fusion no one asked for.Wherein Leonard Snart, son of disgraced admiral Lewis Snart, is seduced by a gorgeous cadet and then recruited on a mysterious mission by one Captain Rip Hunter.





	What is in a name?

**Author's Note:**

> The opposite of slow burn here fyi.
> 
> Season of kink prompt: places

Len was hanging in his usual chair at the bar at Saints and Sinners when a whole crew of cadets walked in, freshly minted in academy colors. Probably here from the shipyards and slumming it. Wasn't rare.

Most of them looked wet behind the ears and boring as fuck, maybe worth it for pool sharking but otherwise disposable. They didn't even have anything worth lifting in their pockets. He'd know, he checked enough times.

But there was one. A blonde woman, not tall but moving like she owned the place. Perfectly arched brows and steady blue eyes with just a hint of something too sharp and too cold behind them.

And Len liked sharp things a lot and cold things better. He smirked at her with showy arrogance and no real expectation and sat down in the open seat next to her. "Hey beautiful," he called. "Can I buy you a drink?"

She laughed at him and took in his shabby leather and scuffed up boots. Not that that meant anything. "I dunno, can you?" she asked.

He leaned in closer, a little mean, a little teasing. "Sure, if you tell me what you're drinking. Otherwise, I have to guess and I might pick something too strong for you." 

"Aww, and here I thought they only drank corn whiskey and paint thinner out here in the middle of nowhere," she said smiling back at him and leaning in herself. Not quite in touching range but close enough. 

"Not only paint thinner," he said with dramatic eyebrows and a cheerful smirk. "Take your chances and see what you get?"

"Hmmm, what do I get if you're the one the drinks are too strong for?" She asked, a hint of that cold sharpness in her gaze, a touch of speculation. That made him sit up and take notice.

"Your wicked way with me?" he said, with an open, inviting shrug. She shifted a little, half standing before settling down again, but he noticed she ended up closer than when they'd started. Smooth and purposeful in how she moved. 

"Hey, Lance! This creep bothering you?" And into their little idyll came some jerk with shaggy blond hair and an irritating smile.

But she just laughed and waved him off like a pesky fly, without taking her eyes off Len, "nah, actually I think I'm gonna bother him. Maybe."

Both of Len's eyebrows rose and he deliberately settled his limbs into an inviting sprawl in his seat without really thinking about it. "I am open to being bothered."

Her gaze ran over him, the way his legs fell open at the knee, leaving space. The come on. "You got a name, blue eyes?* she asked, like she would be ok if he said no.

He shrugged, looking at her uniform, the rank markings on it. "Right now? Only if you want me to have one, Cadet… Lance, is it?"

"It is," she acknowledged with an incline of her head. She looked him over again, mouth curled. When she moved this time it was decisive, into his space, between his invitingly parted knees. Way up close and now he could taste her breath. "Do I need to get you drunk first or is the jerk flirting a sign you're ready to go?"

He laughed out loud. Let his hands rest at his sides, an easy surrender. "Nope. I'm good. Ready to go."

She winked. "We'll see if you are," she said and there it was again, the spike of something cold and promising.

They ended up in the back room, one the owner had given him a key for. Him sprawled out on his back on the pool table, her on top, riding his face, his tongue while he licked her open.

Her thighs trembled in his grip. Academy uniform skirt hitched way up, around her waist. She made half bitten off noises, low and thrilling. The taste of her was heavy- bittersweet.

She shifted, sighing, rocking over him, soaked in her own juices. He tongued around her clit, still gripping her thighs when she came. 

Fifteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds from the moment he'd locked the door behind them, which made him smile. Not bad. Not his record, but not bad.

She sprawled on top of him after, panting in his ear, cheek pressed to his, still bare cunt flush against his hip. Her boots were still on. His pants were zipped and he was visibly hard in them.

"Not bad, no name," she murmured into his skin. "My turn, I think." Her hand pressed between his legs and he smirked.

And that was when a whistle blew, loud and shrill and just outside the door. "Cadets!" Someone yelled.

"Fuck," she yelled, scrambling to her feet. "Fuck. That's the officer. I need to go." 

He rolled his eyes and sat up while she tugged up her underwear and shoved down her skirt. "Well it was nice to meet you, Cadet Lance," he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the pool table and hopping off. "Sorry you had to come and run."

She grinned and rolled her eyes at the same time. "I'd offer you a rain check if you gave me your com info, no name?" 

He was tempted, legitimately, but then shook his head. No need to deal with the Fleet drama his name could cause. "Nah," he said. "I don't do rainchecks."

She took a quick step toward him and gave him a last, bruising kiss on the mouth. "Well, your loss, I'd have bought you dinner too." Then she laughed and ran for it when the whistle blew again. 

It turned out it was someone a lot less appealing who bought him dinner.

A guy in a trenchcoat with a localized British accent to his standard. 

"Call me Hunter, Rip Hunter," Trenchcoat guy said when he stopped Len at the bar.

Len rolled his eyes. "Why am I calling you anything? I don't know you."

Hunter shrugged, lips pursed with irritation. "I'll pay your bar tab in exchange for the conversation."

Len laughed then, stopping and turning to look at the man. "Oh? Will you?" He turned to the bartender. "Give me a pint of your finest romulan ale, madam."

She made a face which he grinned at. "That crap's illegal, Snart. Wouldn't want Captain Hunter here to think less of us."

"Oh? Captain Hunter is it now?" Len swiveled his chair and stared back at the asshole. "You're out of uniform."

"Right. I was about to get to that," Hunter muttered. "I need help and you're the perfect recruit for the project."

Leonard's eyeroll was pronounced. "Recruit? Is this a Star Fleet pitch? Let me save you some time. I don't want them. And they don't want me, Daddy makes me a security risk." 

"How about you listen to what I have to say before dismissing it out of hand, Mr. Snart. As I've said, I'll pay your tab. The legal one."

Len shrugged openly and gave his best hard stare. It bounced off Hunter. "Fine. You can buy me drinks and dinner if you're that hot for it. Just don't expect me to put out afterwards, I'm not a joiner."

He put in an order and the bartender showed up with a beer and a plate of curry fries. He didn't share.

Hunter stared at him uncomfortably. A little too long and not in a fuck happy, wanna see you naked way. More like, I wanna dissect you and make sure you bleed red. Which Len didn't. Actually. 

Thanks mom.

"So? Make your pitch?" Len finally said when the silence had stretched too far.

"Right. So I couldn't believe it when they told me who you were," Hunter said with that dubious, too knowing smile. "And that I'd happen to find you here of all places."

Len shrugged. "Always nice to meet a fan." He leaned in a little, making his grin wider, and then stuffed a french fry into his mouth. Spoke around it, "so. Someone told you my name. You checked me out and found out I'm the son of the federation's biggest traitor, right? And somehow this makes me perfect for your… what now?"

And that was where Hunter surprised him and not in a good way. "I'm not talking about the former Admiral, Mr. Snart. You're T'Aravah's boy, aren't you? She'd be less than impressed with what you've made of yourself."

Len went utterly still. He hadn't heard his mother's name in a long time. Not since an exquisitely, brutally, polite Vulcan from the embassy came to take her ashes away. And looked at her red eyed, tear streaked, five year old son with a dismissive head shake and a, 'you don't resemble her at all, even less than most hybrids. Such human eyes. Such a human face.'

There weren't even holos left, nothing but shoved aside memories to remember she'd even existed, never mind had the bad taste to leave behind offspring. Not until this asshole here said her name like he was entitled to it.

"She should have thought of that before she married a traitor and died," Len said, cold as he could, forcing the faint smile onto his mouth. "But I'm so sorry to disappoint you, Hunter. Why don't you run along?"

"Do you enjoy it?" Hunter said like Len hadn't spoken. "Wasting your potential on petty crime?"

"Sure," Len responded and then stuffed another three fries in his mouth. "But you should remember there's nothing petty about my crime."

"Oh, excuse me. Wasting your potential on high level crime and excellent establishments such as this."

Len leaned forward, hands down on the table while he finished chewing. This was getting annoying. More annoying. "I thought there was going to be a pitch in here somewhere. Sounds like insults all the way down."

Hunter gave him this look then. A careful one, a little too earnest. His hands were flat, palms down on the table, mirroring Len's almost exactly. "The federation needs more than Star Fleet to keep it running and safe, Mr. Snart. It needs people like me. And you. People who will do what it takes."

Len frowned and shifted back. "No," he said. "I'm not going to do whatever it takes. I'm not about that. You're looking for my father again."

"Hear me out," Hunter said. "Lives do depend on it."

Len could just feel his face twisting into a sneer. "So what do you want stolen and what do I get for stealing it? And, let me tell you, saying it would make my dead Mama proud is the wrong answer."

Hunter opened his mouth but Len was only half listening. His mind was somewhere else.

Len had only specifically told one person who didn't already know about T'Aravah. He was fourteen, doing a ten month stint in glorified juvie (they called it a school. Special residential school) and he'd met the guy that was going to be his best friend.

His dad was busy ruining someone else's life right then. A lot of someones it turned out, just ask the nice people of Tarsus IV if you could find any left.

But Mick Rory, sixteen and built with a love for fire the doctors couldn't cure, was already the best friend Leonard Snart had ever had. Even then, just a few months after they'd met. So he told him. 

Mick had taken it in stride in a way that Mick could when it didn't involve burning things or hitting them until they stopped talking.

He'd said, "You really part Vulcan? Really? You don't even have the pointy ears."

Len lifted his shoulders and rolled his eyes. "I cut them off when I was twelve," he said. "The points. Then cauterized em."

There was a look of something like pure horror and a wordless, but why? Why?

I didn't deserve to look like her anymore, Len thought but didn't say out loud. That wasn't relevant. He shrugged smoothly, "Dad thought they were too conspicuous and he was right. It's not like there was anything Vulcan looking about me other than that."

Mick had thought about it and then just nodded. The horror was still there, but muted, like he knew he had to let it go. "I can see it around your eyes, a little. And you're real smart and a cold bastard. Pretty Vulcan there."

Len laughed. "If I were that smart, I wouldn't have gotten caught." 

And Mick just smirked back and clapped him on the shoulder. "Next time, buddy, you won't be. I got faith."

And Mick was right. They'd come close a time or two. People knew. But not enough. They hadn't been caught.

Not like Admiral Lewis Snart, who'd be in Auckland penal settlement for the rest of his life. Because if they ever let him out one of his victims would probably get him.

Maybe Len.

Not that it mattered.

Twenty-five years later, Hunter's offer burning in his brain, and he went to Mick, who just laughed and said, "Lenny, you wanna be in? I'm in."

So they were in.

And then there was the woman.

"Hello, no name," she said when he and Mick first walked in to the bridge of the USS Waverider. She was seated in the pilot's chair and she smirked and didn't get up to greet them. "Does this mean I get my rain check?"

"I think you know my name, Lance," Len said, eyebrows raised. Hunter would have told her even if he hadn't told Len how a Star Fleet cadet ended up on this particular mission.

There was something about her he'd recognized immediately. Ice cold. She wasn't different from him. Not really.

"I'm not calling you Snart," she said, steadily. "I like no name better. Or blue eyes."

"How about Leonard," he said and paused. Then smiled to himself. "Son of T'Aravah."

"Welcome to section 31, Star Fleet's seedy underbelly, Leonard son of T'Aravah," she grinned. "Anyway. So I bagged a Vulcan."

"You're just that good, Lance," he said, meeting her eyes. "It's true."

"Is that a yes to my raincheck?"

He hummed instead of a response. Mick laughed at him, low and rumbling.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey maybe there will be more if I come up with an actual plot. In the meantime they have adventures in spaaaaace. And probably time. Sara gets her raincheck.
> 
> You can find me @  
> https://ninhursag.dreamwidth.org/


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